


Back Into Your Arms

by coveredinthecolors



Series: we're made of starlight [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 04:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10454682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredinthecolors/pseuds/coveredinthecolors
Summary: After her time at the Spring Court, Feyre was more than relieved to finally be reunited with her mate.or how the Feysand reunion could go in ACOWAR.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted months ago on my tumblr (itsnotacrimetoloveyou) and I decided to put it here. It was my first time writing for these characters, but I hope you enjoy it!

Feyre kept her answers short during breakfast that morning, trying to keep Tamlin from talking. She was tired of hearing his voice, the impatience she felt threatening to come out as irritation, but, frankly, she did not care.

Not after the message Rhys had sent her yesterday.

After getting past the Spring Lord’s mental shields, she’d made him think that they had slept together - as if she would ever let him touch her after all he had done - before retreating to the privacy of her own room to speak with the man she wished was warming her bed.

The magical paper was already waiting for her underneath her pillows with a pen.

She had written everything she had found out that day, all of the information she had gathered while pretending to be in love with Tamlin, so in love that she’d forgotten what that damned King had done to her sister and was only thankful he had broken the mate bond. As if Rhysand and her could ever be separated.

But people believed in what they wanted to hear, and if that was the sacrifice she had to do for her court, for her family, for her mate – then so be it.

And when the High Lord of the Night Court replied, Feyre could barely understand the words, despite him having taught her how to read.

Rhys told her that she would be going home soon. Probably tomorrow if everything worked out, and, knowing him, he’d make sure everything went smoothly so that she could go to Velaris. To him.

Feyre had gotten so much information, had detailed each and every step of their enemies thoroughly. They knew how the King’s armies were displayed, how many warriors they had, their secret weapons, their plans – everything.

And they had adjusted accordingly, the Illyrians were positioned, ready to attack; they had made other courts choose their side, their soldiers up for the swift war that would come.

Most importantly, they had a chance of getting to the Cauldron, to stop the harm it would bring to the mortal and fae world alike.

Her High Lord had promised her that they’d soon be together and that was all that was keeping her from removing Tamlin’s eyes from his face. That hope that was growing inside of her, the one that made her caress the mate bond relentlessly, sending love and relief through it, and she just knew that she’d be hearing Rhysand’s laugh if the bargain bond was still in place.  _You can’t even keep your mental hands from me, that’s how irresistible I am,_ he’d say, his voice teasing and perfectly arrogant and so him.

She only realised she was holding onto her fork too strongly when Lucien pointed it out. His eyes were aware of her every movement, as if he knew something was about to happen. Something that could lead him to Elain.

Feyre felt a tug at the bond, a sharp pull she couldn’t quite decipher. There was a certain affection to it, but it was desperate and frantic and she nearly panicked, thinking that something had happened to Rhysand, but she felt it again and she understood it for what it was –

A warning. He was coming for her.

She rose to her feet, pushing her chair back, looking to the door as if to see if he wasn’t already there.

He appeared before Tamlin could ask what was wrong.

In his fine, elegant clothes – no wings, no armour. Just the powerful High Lord of the Night Court, lips twisted into a cruel smirk in his otherwise emotionless face.

His façade was all that stopped her from throwing her arms around him, from telling and showing him just how much she had missed him. But he wasn’t her Rhys, not yet. Not until they were alone.

“What are you doing here?” the Spring Lord asked, rising from his chair along with Lucien, his face seemed to be made of pure rage.

Rhysand took a few lazy steps towards her, pointing his chin at her, “I couldn’t very well leave my mate to rot here, could I?”

“She. Is. Not. Your. Mate.” Tamlin barked at him, his claws showed up in his hands. Once, Feyre might’ve been impressed by them, scared even. But not anymore, not after everything she’d seen, everything she’d become.

The Night Lord didn’t flinch, in fact, he barely looked at Tamlin at all. His gaze was directed to Feyre and to Feyre alone, love emanating from their bond deep within her.

“I am,” she confirmed, knowing that their attack would happen too quickly for the truth she’d spill at his face to matter in the grand scheme of things. Besides, she felt as if she deserved it. She had earned that small victory, no matter how south things could go that day. “I am Rhysand’s mate. I never stopped being, I will  _never_  stop being his mate.”

There was such fierceness in her voice that Tamlin did not speak at first. Rhys still looked at her, unreadable to anyone else, but her trained eyes saw the signs of amusement written across his face. He’d enjoy this too.

“The King-“ Lucien began to say to fill the silence.

“Is a fool,” Rhysand completed. “Nothing could break a mate bond. Certainly not that megalomaniac lunatic.”

Tamlin growled, baring his teeth at Rhys. Feyre almost rolled her eyes at that. “Even if what you are saying is true, I will find a way to free her. She’s mine.”

She directed a cold gaze in his direction, forcing herself not to actually freeze him with her powers. “I am not your possession, Tamlin.”

“Of course, not-“ he tried to amend himself.

“You do not own me. I’m not your pretty lady who will give you children and plan your parties. I’m not your little trophy.” Her voice silenced any excuses that the Lord seemed to want to say, her chin was raised high – she was a queen. She would not bow to any of them.

There was a silent pause, Rhys silently caressing their bond to show his support, though a little of his anger towards Tamlin showed through.

“How did you get in?” Lucien asked. “We raised shields against you. Against winnowing.”

Her mate’s smirk was extremely satisfying as he said, “I had help from my High Lady.”

Tamlin snorted, “There is no such thing as-“

“I think,” Feyre said, “you’ll find out that you are quite wrong about that,” she stopped the glamour that was concealing the evidence of their love, allowing the others to see the tattoos on her right arm. “I am the High Lady of the Night Court.”

And the realisation she saw dawn upon Tamlin’s eyes – she’d never forget it. He finally understood all of it. That Rhys and her were together, that nothing could tear them apart, but also that they had been playing him. He had given away all of his secrets to his enemy, not even knowing she was his enemy.

And now it was too late.


End file.
